


Almost human (and how it's different but still kind of similar)

by Nosferotica



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley using his brain to think about things, Domestic, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Introspection, M/M, Not that they've really talked about it, One Shot, Other, This is about as far away from angst as we are from alpha centauri, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferotica/pseuds/Nosferotica
Summary: Relationships aren’t quite the same when you’re an immortal being out of biblical legend





	Almost human (and how it's different but still kind of similar)

**Author's Note:**

> I read the book, watched the show and had to get this out into the wild before my emotions caught up to me. See ya!  
Find me on [tumblr](https://inosfe.tumblr.com/)

Relationships aren’t quite the same when you’re an immortal being out of biblical legend. There’s not much of a dating scene in heaven or hell to begin with. Trying to get with a human is a pain, what with them being mortal, as anyone who’s ever read a good vampire romance knows. Not that Crowley’s ever read one of those, beyond the back covers anyway. 

That’s why it would, hypothetically, be a lot easier to become friends with someone who’s supposed to be your mortal enemy (immortal enemy? He’s not sure how that works), spend centuries bumping into one another and then, hypothetically, one day find that people have started mistaking you for an old married couple. Easy mistake to make when Aziraphale insists on dressing like someone’s uncle. 

It’s wholly inaccurate, of course; neither of them are old (they can’t be, they exist on a plane beyond time and space) and Crowley’s not sure what would happen if they tried to get properly married, with a priest and everything. It would probably give him a bad rash, at the very least.

“Now where did I put the eggs?”

“Bottom left cupboard.”

“Ah! Thank you!”

Aziraphale flashes him an angelic smile, one of those that seem like they should burn him alive but instead leave him feeling just a bit lightheaded. There’s a streak of flour on his right cheek. He rubs at it absentmindedly, spreading it up towards his temple. It reminds him of that powder they used to put on their wigs back in the 1700's. Crowley wrinkles his nose. That stuff was nasty.

“Cream of tartar…” He frowns, looking around. “Should be here somewhere.”

Crowley doesn’t bother mentioning that he could just miracle it into his hands. Aziraphale has decided that he wants to bake ‘the right way’ which means no magic. He’s not certain which part of ‘the right way’ means that he isn’t allowed to help, but he’s not arguing. Food isn’t really his thing. Watching a small, exited angel dashing around the kitchen in a frilly apron is very much his thing so he sticks around.

The old stand mixer struggles into action at Aziraphale’s request. When his back is turned Crowley leans over and gives it a very stern frown. The thing lets out a small ‘squeak’ and is suddenly in perfect working order.

“Crowley! Don’t menace the electronics!” Ah. Discovered. Should have told the thing not to snitch while he was at it.

“Just a little encouragement. It was being lazy.”

Aziraphale gives him a displeased frown but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Crowley stretches out as much as he can on the small kitchen chair. He’s forbidden from putting his feet up on the table which limits the comfort factor a bit. There’s a small popping sound, and he realizes that he’s sitting in an armchair. It’s old, covered in a disgusting brown and pink flower upholstery and it’s ugly as all hell. It’s also one of the most comfortable seats he’s ever been in, which is quite the achievement when you’ve been around for thousands of years.

He looks up at his companion in surprise but Aziraphale is still facing away from him. He can, however, tell that the corners of his eyes are wrinkling.

He’s forgotten how it all started. Well, sure, creation but _this_. The thing between them. When did it become the two of them in a cramped kitchen on earth, eating cake and bumping their knees against each other under the table as if they were being subtle at all? It’s not a big deal, he muses, when he pulls a laughing angel into a chaste kiss and steals a piece of his cake. Probably part of the ineffable plan somehow, although the idea of God peeping down at them and being all pleased with how things are going isn’t a comforting thought. Creepy, he’d say, if he wasn’t supposed to like creepy stuff. Sugar and crumbs stick to his lips uncomfortably and it's a bit too sweet, but he feels very alive and Aziraphale gives him an especially big smile that seems to miraculously clear up the sky and reveal a beaming sun in the middle of fall. He curls up into the warmth and for a moment he’s almost human. 

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine me, roller skating next to the bandwagons of popular stuff, wearing only a terry cloth bathrobe and a pair of aviator sunglasses. I barrel right through the Good Omens line and come out at the other side with a cup of tea and a newspaper from 1861. I come to a screeching halt, leaf through the paper and nod to myself. Then I write something on a post-it note that I have procured from my pocket. I fold it into a paper airplane, throw it into the line and strike a pose. There's some polite clapping but most people are looking away, wishing that I had at least bothered with some pants. I don't know where I was going with this but wouldn't it be cool if I knew how to roller skate?
> 
> Ok yeah so I'm a bit intimidated by the Good Omens fandom. Everyone seems very nice but my personality is very much that of a small, nervous dog so we'll see if I write something longer in the future. I just feel like, for once, the canon already contains everything I want: historical stuff, longing glances, shenanigans, temporary character death and allusions to old love songs. I'm not big into projecting myself onto fictional characters and I can't just keep doing medieval au's for every couple I kinda like. I mean I could but that's besides the point.Thank you if you've read all of this, I've been stuck inside for a bit too long, again. I think it's getting to my head.


End file.
